The End and the Beginning
by alxabc
Summary: You said you weren't going to poison me.' He raised his eyebrows in question.'Everytime you touch me, you do,' she shouted. DH, AU. The end of things perhaps the beginning as well?
1. The end of things

The End and the Beginning

The dust landed, the smoke cleared. Winds stopped roaring and the thunder could barely be heard. Everything was on hold in respect for the present spirit in the air: death. Everything and everyone was waiting aimlessly for the spirit to disappear.

The ground was covered with bodies. They seemed to be scattered all over the place. In the very centre of things, a red-like mist was glowing.

Now that the smoke had cleared and the dust had landed, Hermione could breathe and see once more. But she didn't want to breathe. She definitely didn't want to see. Her eyes couldn't take the sight before her.

She tried calling out a name. The most important name to her. And she needed to hear a reply. Her voice was weak and cracked. So she called again.

'Ron?'

She shivered as she heard her voice. It seemed so surreal in this shattered world to be calling someone. She tried again.

'Ron?'

Tears were now streaming down her cheeks, she was in a state of panic. She started walking amongst the bodies, trying to find some sign of life, at the same time hoping that no... red hair... would show.

'RON!'

Her voice was now screaming and her heart beating faster.

'Ron, please answer me, please... You're alright, I know you are, RON!'

And just as she stumbled, she heard something. She heard something. Again. Again.

'Hermione?'

'Ron!'

She knew it, it had to be him! She couldn't stop the tears streaming down, but felt a lump of joy rise in her throat, her heart was beating even faster and her legs could suddenly move... She kept screaming his name every three seconds, scream and wait for a reply... scream and wait for a reply...

Finally she saw a figure running towards her. She knew it, it was him! It had to be him! She could see it, but... But... He was shorter. He wasn't tall, gangly... He didn't have long hair... But it had to be him...

'Ron!'

She shouted again and again, even if the figure was close by. And then she looked into the eyes of the figure and saw that they weren't brown... They weren't that marvellously happy colour brown... They were green... emerald green...

'Hermione, oh thank -'

Hermione fell to her knees and Harry grasped her elbows. She pulled herself up and started scratching Harry's shoulders with her nails. How could Harry talk right now? How? She couldn't care less that Voldemort was defeated if Ron wasn't there...

He was talking now, worried, worried about her... About her health, her eyes were blank and she looked dreadfully pale...

'Ron,' she kept shouting. 'Ron! I need to find Ron!'

She started running, fighting to get Harry off her... She needed Ron... She needed to tell him everything... Needed him to yell at her for dancing with Viktor at the Yule Ball... Needed him to scold her for not keeping Crookshanks away from Scabbers... Needed him...

'Hermione, get a grip!' Harry was saying. 'Hermione, pull yourself together!'

She looked at him, trying to calm herself down.

'Hermione,' Harry sighed. 'Are you alright?'

'We need to find Ron,' was all she said. 'We need to tell him... He needs to know... We've got to find him, Harry!'

'Hermione,' said Harry. 'He's - he's not here...'

Was he crying? Was Harry crying? Why would he cry? There was nothing to cry about, Ron was safe, he was alive, she knew it...

'Ron!' Hermione cried hysterically. 'Ron, come on, stop it! RON!'

'Hermione, stop it,' whispered Harry. 'He's not going to come... He can't come... He's dead.'

'Be quiet!' yelled Hermione, crying again. 'He won't be able to hear me if you keep talking! He needs to know we're here. RON!'

'He's dead, Hermione,' shouted Harry. 'He's not here!'

As these words hit Hermione, she doubled up and vomited. Right there, right in the middle of things, she vomited all over herself, over Harry, over everything.

Harry had a firm grasp on her now, and she fell limply into his arms. She couldn't fight anymore. She didn't want to fight. It was all over.

'Let go of her, Potter.'

The words were cold, they chilled her to the bone. She could still feel Harry's hands on her arms, still taste the vomit on her lip.

'Malfoy?' spat Harry, not able to believe that Draco Malfoy could still be alive.

Hermione looked up. He was alive - Draco Malfoy was standing in the midst of destruction, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. There was a small amount of blood on his forehead, but other than that, he seemed completely fine, even calm. Only his shaking voice revealed his determined air.

'Let her go, Potter,' repeated Malfoy, his eyes gleaming in a strange way. 'I don't want to fight you for her.'

'iFight me for her/i?' repeated Harry, confused. 'What are you talking about, Malfoy?'

'Let her go, Potter,' said Malfoy once again. 'I've waited a long time for this.'

Hermione stood up, eyeing Malfoy with apprehension. She had never seen him so determined before, so sure of what he was about to do. Harry was still holding on to Hermione, glaring at Malfoy.

'For what?' snapped Harry. 'Explain yourself.'

'I am not afraid to shed your blood, Potter,' sneered Malfoy. 'In fact, it would be the best thing to do right now.'

Malfoy withdrew his wand. Hermione stared from the wand to Harry, angry tears of apprehension in her eyes. Harry was taking out his wand too.

'I'll never let go of Hermione,' snarled Harry, as if he finally understood. 'You sick bastard. You've been waiting for ithis/i?'

Malfoy nodded.

'The moment of truth has come, Potter. Are you ready?'

Harry snarled, and nodded. He raised his wand arm at the ready, as did Malfoy, after throwing a glance towards Hermione.

She was standing behind Harry, her mind blank. She didn't want to risk losing Harry. She watched as they duelled fiercely, each opponant as strong as the other. They used numerous spells, many killing, all dangerous. Finally, Harry got Malfoy with a stunning curse and turned around to make sure Hermione was all right.

Things happened quickly. She just registered Harry's question before she saw Malfoy, almost in slow motion, come free from the curse and stand up. He raised his wand, a triumphant glint in his eye. Hermione screamed and leapt in front of Harry as she was hit square in the chest, before everything went black.

She could hear a slight mumbling. No, a humming sound. Was it a bird? No, birds whistled. Perhaps a cricket? There were lots of crickets in Ron and hers garden. She had bought the house for them because of it. She knew she would love to wake up to the sound of crickets and grasshoppers.

But it wasn't a cricket... It wasn't a bird. It wasn't the comforting sound of Ron, bustling around the bed, trying to make her comfortable as he placed the breakfast tray on her knees before kissing her.

A message slowly reached her brain. First, it was the message of pain. Her chest felt extremely sore. Her brain received the message and interpreted it. Something must have happened, her brain said, sending the message back to the chest. It took some time before the chest answered. You were hit, the message said, as the brain received it.

More thoughts started whirling around in Hermione's head. Thoughts about being hit, about Malfoy, about Voldemort... about iRon/i

Hermione let out a scream and opened her eyes.

The sunlight was shining in from a gap of some unfamiliar, green curtains. She was lying on a unusually soft bed, almost too soft. The silk and satin sheets were all light green and her pillow was white. Where was her mother's pillow with the embroidered flowers on it? She turned around, wincing because of her chest. Where was Ron?

She let out another sob as she remembered what had happened last night. Sitting up and rubbing her chest, she blinked the tears away. She didn't where she was, didn't know who owned this house, didn't know what to do...

The room was very large. It had a desk on one side by the window, an armchair on the other with a neat bookcase and a very grand fireplace. The most beautiful thing though, was the bed. It seemed to come from the 16th century: long, silk, dark green curtains were tied behind the bedposts, the wood was a rich, dark mahogany and it was of a very large size.

Hermione stood up and backed away, a little afraid of all this grandeur. At home, with Ron, they hadn't had much money and could only afford the necessities. She felt frightened being surrounded by things she didn't dare touch, things that she didn't even want to touch. She wanted to be home with Ron again, wanted to smell his scent.

She walked over to the door, and was not surprised to find that it was locked. Tears were pouring down her cheeks again, but she sniffed and held her head proudly. She refused to give up now. She placed her hands on her stomach. She wasn't all alone, after all.

She looked up as the door unlocked and two men strode in. One was tall and had silvery hair; the other was slightly fat and of no real importance.

As Hermione stared in those cool, recollected, grey orbs, she knew exactly who it was that had captured her. She knew exactly who it was that had locked her in this room. She knew exactly who it was that had put her in this silk nightgown.

It happened so fast. Hermione ran up to Malfoy and punched him on the nose. A deafening crack signalled that it had broken, and suddenly, she was hitting every part of him she could find. She was tired and aching, but she didn't care, rage was worse than pain.

She only stopped when a pair of strong hands grasped her upper arms with such force that she yelped, her eyes watering. The man flung her to the other side of room, onto the bed, where she lay, too hurt to get up.

She heard a shout of, 'Crabbe, you disobedient fool!' before someone was slapped and the door closed. Her head felt too heavy to move, so she just let it rest on the soft blankets. She didn't even open her eyes until she felt a soft hand run through her hair.

Then she instantly sat up, groaning and backing away from Draco Malfoy.

'Get away from me,' she whispered, terrified.

'Hermione -' began Malfoy, his eyes still just as cool, still just as determined as the other night. He neared her. She kept backing away until she reached the wall.

'Don't come any closer!' she yelled, panicked.

'I'm not going to hurt you,' snarled Malfoy, his eyes narrowed, his nose bloody. He kept walking towards her, repairing his nose with a casual flick of his wand.

'Stay where you are!' screamed Hermione hysterically, as Malfoy stopped barely two inches from her.

'You're aching everywhere,' he growled. 'Your body is exhausted. Stop tiring it even more.'

Hermione put a hand over her stomach again. Did he know...? If he didn't, she wasn't going to reveal her secret. And she wasn't going to lose her baby.

He put a supporting arm around her, but she backed away. He scowled, impatient, but followed her to the bed, where she heavily sat down.

Malfoy went over to the desk and picked up a breakfast tray. Nearing her, he put the tray on her lap and surveyed her carefully. Tears of anger and hatred resided in Hermione's eyes. Ron used to bring her breakfast on a tray.

'Ron did this too,' she whispered, her voice hoarse. It was the first thing on her mind, what Ron had done, what Ron would do, how Ron would do it.

'I know,' murmured Malfoy, staring at her coolly. 'I had you watched.'

Hermione looked up, her eyes flashing. In a swift motion, she picked up her bowl of cereal and threw it against the beautiful, shiny walls.

Malfoy didn't flinch. He didn't move.

'How dare you,' Hermione said, furious, tears in her eyes once more. She wiped them angrily away. 'You had no right.'

Malfoy sat down next to her and longingly touched her cheek. Hermione backed away once more. Malfoy growled and withdrew his hand.

'You should eat your breakfast,' he mumbled angrily. 'I'll come back for lunch.'

He walked out, locking the door behind him. Hermione threw the tray on the floor and started sobbing.

Draco walked down the stairs, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his heart. He could hear Hermione's sobs and he didn't like it. He wanted to go in there, hold her, touch her, to force her to love him, as much as he loved her.

He didn't know how he had come to love her. It had started gradually, unnoticably. He had found himself admiring her more and more as she grew into a woman. She was everything a man could want, intelligent, funny, beautiful...

So damn beautiful.

Then she had fallen in love with Weasley. Draco banged his fist to the table he was sitting at. There were even plans about getting engaged. Draco knew from that day, that he would have to kill Weasley... That he could never, ever get Hermione with Ron Weasley alive.

Plans were made. Draco Malfoy was powerful and he had many connections. His old friends respected him and were only too glad to help get rid of that riff raff. No one suspected that Draco loved Hermione. They only thought that he detested Weasley.

The Final Battle came as a surprise. They had planned to kill Weasley a week later, but when the Dark Marks on their arms burned, they knew that the time had come.

Many Death Eaters were killed. Too many to execute the plan of killing Weasley. That's why Draco had to do it himself. He managed to disorientate Weasley, leading him to a desert place. He could see his pathetic face even now.

i 'Hermione, you have to leave from here - go down to the Shrieking Shack, it's completely desolate -'

'I can't Ron, you know I can't!'

Draco scowled as he saw Hermione walk up to Ron and put her arms around his neck.

'I won't leave you,' she whispered in his ear.

Draco let out a deep, angry breath against the tree he was hiding by. He could hear explosions everywhere around himself, but his eyes were only fixated on Weasley and Hermione.

'Please Hermione... I won't be able to fight if you're not safe.'

Draco clenched his fist. It wasn't up to Weasley to make sure Hermione was safe.

Hermione bowed her head, tears in her eyes. She held Weasley close to her.

'I love you,' she whispered.

Draco almost shouted out in rage as Weasley touched Hermione's cheek and kissed her passionately. He took out his wand, but waited. Weasley's time had not come yet.

He watched slowly as Hermione drew away, running in the opposite direction. Draco surveyed her, glad to know where she would be.

Stepping out from behind the tree, he glared at Weasley.

Then two small words were spoken with a horribly powerful force./i

Draco stood up and walked over to his small bar. Taking a glass of whiskey and sitting down again, he ran his fingers through his hair.

Only Hermione could make him touch his hair after having combed it so perfectly. Hermione could make him do almost anything.

The rest had been easy enough. Draco had gone off into the Shrieking Shack, but discovered that she had already left. He had felt scared there, and Malfoys were never scared. He didn't like the thought of his perfect Hermione being among dead bodies and wrecks.

A house elf came in the dining room and bowed hurriedly.

'Yes, what is it?' snapped Draco, annoyed.

'Luncheon, master,' squeaked the house elf. 'We has laid the table for two.'

'Put the food on the tray,' said Draco, who could still hear Hermione's desperate sobs. 'Miss Granger is not in the right state to have lunch here.'

'Yes, master,' squeaked the elf, and bowed again.

Draco rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair again.

'She isn't going to come around just yet,' said a voice from the corner.

Draco scowled.

'Zabini, I told you not to disturb me,' growled Draco. 'I need to gather my thoughts.'

A young man stepped out from the shadows, a sneer apparent on his pointed face. He was rather good looking with dark brown, wavy locks of hair descending to his shoulders, tied back in a pony tail. Blaise Zabini's eyes were an icy blue, and he was leaning casually against the wall, surveying his friend.

'I warned you when you took her here,' he said and smirked. 'It will only worsen her condition.'

'I will take care of her,' said Draco angrily. 'I'm the only one who can take properly care of her!'

'She doesn't love you, you know,' said Blaise, picking an apple up from the fruit basket and taking a bite.

'She will,' said Draco. 'I'm convinced of that. In time.'

'You need a lot of patience, mate,' said Blaise, munching away. 'Her family and friends are dead.'

'I needed to get rid of them if she was to love me!' said Draco defensively.

'Oh, so it was a selfish act?' said Blaise sitting down. 'I see.'

Draco scowled.

'I allowed you to stay at my place, but not to disturb me.'

'I know,' said Blaise casually, scratching his chin. 'You better go up and see your bonny lass now. She'll be waiting for you, no doubt.'

Hermione was still lying on the bed when the door opened and Draco strode in with a house elf. The elf was carrying a tray with food for two people, and it put it on a table in the middle of the room. Draco watched Hermione sit up and glare at him as the door closed, but he did not move, even if he wanted to.

'You must be hungry,' said Draco gently. 'Come and eat.'

'No,' spat Hermione. 'I refuse to touch a bite which comes from a murderer like you.'

Draco's eyes strayed over to the untouched breakfast tray.

'Starving yourself won't help your situation,' he said, raising his eyebrows. 'Please, Hermione.'

Hermione closed her eyes as she felt something move in her stomach. It was her baby. She needed to live for her baby.

She stood up and walked over to Draco, who smiled and withdrew a chair. Once Hermione had sat down, he joined her, pouring wine for them.

Hermione watched him coldly.

'I'd rather eat alone,' she snapped.

Draco's eyes went cold, but he did not budge. Instead, he poured some soup for Hermione, while he himself leaned back in his seat and watched Hermione's sumptious appetite. She was tearing away at a piece of bread as if she hadn't eaten in years, drinking the soup down in three spoonfuls. He smiled, and signalled the elf to cut the meat out. He watched as Hermione took a chickenleg and bit it hungrily.

'Don't you want something to drink?' asked Draco, amazed at her appetite. He offered her the goblet of wine.

Hermione took it and looked inside.

Hesitantly, she said, 'I'd rather have a glass of water...'

Draco raised his eyebrows.

'I'm not going to poison you, if that's what you're afraid of.'

'I wouldn't put it past you,' snapped Hermione, fire in her eyes. 'Wine isn't good for -'

She stopped, about to say 'pregnant women'. Instead, she whispered, ' - for me.'

Draco looked at her suspiciously, but fulfilled her wish.

Once Hermione had finished her meal, she stood up and walked over to the window, her back to Draco. Draco signalled the elf to get out, and it obeyed quickly, closing and locking the door behind it.

Draco looked at Hermione for a while, so beautiful in the sunlight. Then he stood up and cautiously walked to her. Her hand was resting on the windowsill, and he gently placed his on top of hers.

Instantly, she moved back, just as he had predicted. But he couldn't help it; she was so tempting, so intoxicating. He wanted to be with her, feel the warmth of her hand, smell her hair, taste her skin. He sighed, looking at her longingly. If only she wasn't so beautiful.

Her eyes were angry.

'You said you weren't going to poison me,' she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows in question.

'Everytime you touch me, you do,' she shouted.

'Hermione - ' began Draco, reaching out to her, but she backed away to the bed. 'You haven't got a clue why I did what I did.'

Hermione sat down on the bed, turning her head away from Draco.

'Oh, I do. But that isn't an excuse, Malfoy.' She looked at him with those fiery, brown eyes. 'Listen carefully, Malfoy. I will inever/i love you. Do you understand? iNever/i.'

Draco glared at her, his eyes narrowed.

'I loved Ron,' Hermione continued furiously. 'And you took him away from me. You took everything away from me. Life and freedom. Harry. My parents. Ron - you took Ron away from me, you bastard!'

Hermione jumped up as tears sprung to her eyes. She started beating Draco again, but it didn't hurt him. He held onto her, sure that she would fall if he didn't. She was like a porcelain doll; if she fell, she would break into a million pieces. She kept pounding her fists onto his chest for three minutes, then exhaustion overcame her as she slowly realised her defeat. She fell slump into Draco's arms, tears falling down her cheeks. She tried to get away from him, but he wouldn't budge. Slowly and gently, he carried her to the bed, where he laid her down. She turned her back to him, wiping her tears away as he gently touched her hair.

'Don't,' she said. 'Only Ron touched me there.'

'I know,' whispered Draco, touching her soft hair again.

Hermione's fury sprang again and she was just about to jump up, when she clutched her stomach and screamed.

'Hermione!' shouted Draco fearfully. 'What's wrong? Tell me -'

Hermione, against her will, clung onto Draco painfully and screamed.

'Help me,' she whispered, closing her eyes as she hunched her shoulders in pain. 'Malfoy!'

'Hermione, I'm here, what do you want me to do?' said Draco frantically. 'Hermione, what's wrong? ZABINI!'

He shouted Blaise's name, the only man competent enough to call for a Healer. Blaise ran into the room, understood the situation immediately and Disapparated. 


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not a perfect person There's many things I wish I didn't do But I continue learning I never meant to do those things to you And so I have to say before I go That I just want you to know

I've found a reason for me To change who I used to be A reason to start over new and the reason is you

I'm sorry that I hurt you It's something I must live with everyday And all the pain I put you through I wish that I could take it all away And be the one who catches all your tears Thats why I need you to hear

I've found a reason to show A side of me you didn't know A reason for all that I do And the reason is you

Lyrics by Hoobastank, 'The Reason'.

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'Hermione! Hermione, what's wrong? Tell me!'

Draco was hanging on to Hermione, his heart beating fastly with anxiety. Hermione had her eyes closed, her nails boring into Draco's arms, but Draco was oblivious to the pain. She moaned again and again, writhing in pain.

'ELVES! HOPPY, TIPSY, VELVA - COME HERE!'

Draco yelled with all his might as Hermione groaned again. Three small elves appeared by Draco's side at once, cowering under his apparent rage.

'Hoppy, get a towel and some cold water,' snarled Draco. 'Tipsy, you stay here. Velva, open those windows, NOW!'

The three elves scurried about hurriedly; they had never seen their master in a worse temper. Draco grasped Hermione even tighter, who was still moaning, and whispered softly to her.

'Hermione, I'm going to lie you down on the bed, OK? Hermione...'

Hermione looked at him, drenched in cold sweat. Her answer came out in pants.

'Don't think... that this... makes us friends,' she gasped, as Draco ignored the comment and picked her up. Even when she was in this much pain, she hated him. She gasped again and put her hands over her stomach.

Hoppy appeared a moment later. Draco snatched the towel from him and drenched it in cold water. He moved some strands of hair away from Hermione's eyes, then cooled her forehead.

'Where is that idiot Zabini and the Healer,' he hissed angrily, ignoring Hermione's protests. She didn't want him to touch her, but he didn't care.

He leaned down to her and tried to understand what was wrong. She had seemed fine when they had arrived - exhausted, but otherwise fine. What had gone wrong?

'Hermione - ' he whispered softly, patting her shoulder. 'Hermione, what's the matter? Why are you ill?'

Hermione just shook her head and groaned again. Draco was hit with irritation. Why couldn't she just trust him? He drenched the towel in water once more.

'Hermione, I need to know if I'm to heal you,' he said, a little more angrily. He felt horribly helpless, and Malfoys never felt helpless.

Hermione just closed her eyes and shook her head.

'You're not going to heal me,' she whispered. 'You'd never heal this.'

Draco looked at her, confused. Of course he would heal her. How could she assume that he wouldn't?

A few moments later, Blaise Zabini re-Apparated, a plump man in white robes by his side. He was wearing spectacles and looked concerned.

'Healer Twine,' Draco said hurriedly, motioning to Hermione. 'See to her.'

Healer Twine was Draco's personal Healer. He never used anyone else. Twine was a man of great patience and understanding, but he had never approved entirely of Draco. He knew that Draco had worked for the Dark side before its fall, just a few days ago, and had also been slightly anxious when visiting him. So he felt quite mystified seeing a young woman lying on the bed, clearly in a great deal of pain. Draco Malfoy didn't love anything or anyone. Why would he care about a sick woman?

Twine walked towards Draco, who very hesitantly left Hermione in Twine's care. He bent down close, listened to her breathing, took out his wand and prodded her lightly. Draco retreated to Blaise's corner, where Blaise was watching, interested.

'You should congratulate me for finding him,' Blaise said quietly to Draco. 'St. Mungo's was a mess. Lot's of injured people from the Final Battle.'

'I am not in the mood to congratulate anyone!' snapped Draco, clearly frustrated.

Twine stood up, looking at Draco, slightly worried.

'This woman is pregnant,' he said, dreading Draco's reaction.

The silence that followed these words was unbearable.

Draco could hardly believe it. His Hermione, pregnant? With whose child? Draco bored his nails into the palms of his hand, the heat rising in his face. He wanted to gag at the thought of Hermione sleeping with Ron. Anger. Anger such as he had never known filled inside him, along with jealousy, horror and extreme despair. Even though he had known that they were engaged, he had never thought of them that way. His Hermione had always been pure, loving, completely innocent.

'Pregnant?' whispered Draco, clearly furious. 'Pregnant?'

'You didn't know?' mumbled Twine, worried.

'Of course I didn't know!' snarled Draco. 'Pregnant? How many months?'

'I'd say about three - maybe four,' said Twine hesitantly, nervously fiddling with his wand.

'You must be mistaken,' snapped Draco. 'Why didn't I notice?'

'If the baby is the woman's first child...' murmured Twine, 'well, you don't notice these things until she's three months ahead.'

'She doesn't even look pregnant!' shouted Draco, as Twine shushed him.

'She is in a state of stress,' mumbled Twine. 'I assume that she has lost weight...'

Draco glared at Blaise, as if hoping he'd come up with some magical solution. Hoping that someone would tell him that it was all a lie. All Blaise did was raise his eyebrows, and looked at Twine. Draco glanced at Hermione, who appeared to have fainted. Blaise coughed.

'So what's wrong with her?' he asked coolly.

'Excuse me?' said Twine.

'What's wrong with the woman?' repeated Blaise. 'Why is she ill?'

'She's in a state of stress, as I said before,' answered Twine. 'And she hasn't been eating... It's her first baby, it's very risky.'

'So she might lose it?' snarled Draco, hoping it would happen, and yet at the same time fearing it.

Twine nodded.

'But if she enters the fifth month safely, all risks should vanish.'

Draco and Blaise exchanged glances.

'What does she need to do?' asked Draco, coughing.

'For now, she needs rest. Make sure she eats something,' said Twine, gathering his things. 'Don't make her strain herself.' He looked from Blaise to Draco. 'Who is she, by the way?'

Draco narrowed his eyes.

'That is none of your business, I believe,' he answered, pointing to the door. 'You are dismissed.'

'I will check up on her in two weeks,' said Twine, hurriedly walking towards the door. Draco looked at Hermione, signalled the elves to stay with her, then walked out of the room with Blaise and the Healer.

'Pregnant, eh, mate? That's a mouthful.'

Blaise and Draco were sitting at the dining table, eating a nicely served meal. At least Blaise was. Draco was sitting in silence, still shocked over the news he had just learned. Blaise seemed to be rather amused. He was cutting out his food slowly, eying Draco and laughing occasionally.

'You couldn't have expected her to keep herself pure for you,' Blaise continued, taking a bite of his roast beef.

Draco waved his hand about, tapping the table with his fingers.

'I know,' he said. 'But... What am I to do, Blaise? Should I allow her to keep this baby? And when it's born? I had not anticipated this!'

Blaise slowly chewed the meat, then swallowed it. Leaning across the table, he surveyed Draco.

'Do you want Granger to love you, Draco?' he asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Draco looked up, surprised.

'Of course.'

'Then let her keep this baby,' Blaise said, taking a sip of wine. 'The worst one can do to a mother is to take her child away.'

'But...!' Draco stood up in frustration. 'Do you not see what has happened, Blaise? I vowed to take everyone she loved away, so the only person left to love was me. And now? Why, now Weasley's child is inside her, and when it's born, she'll have a little souvenir of their so-called undying love! This is a catastophe!'

Draco was shouting now, his mind dazed with panic. He sat down again, as Blaise continue to survey him.

'And I, who had planned everything so well...' Draco shook his head. 'She will hate me if I take this baby away.'

'She hates you already,' said Blaise, laughing.

'I was to make sure that she would stop hating me, Zabini,' said Draco coldly. 'No... There is no other way; she must keep this baby. Perhaps I can rid her of it once it is born. Put it up for adoption.'

Blaise shook his head.

'You know nothing of women, Draco,' he sighed, returning to his roast beef.

Before Draco could snap back, Velva, the house elf who had been watching over Hermione, nervously walked into the dining room and bowed its master.

'The Miss has woken up, sir,' it squeaked.

Draco jumped up immediately. Before he could leave the room, however, Blaise asked him a question.

'Tell me, Draco, what is the reason of this sudden change in you?'

Draco looked up, his gaze meeting Blaise's determined smirk.

'She's the reason.'

Draco entered the bedroom barely 30 seconds later.

Hermione was sitting up in the bed, her eyes cast downwards, her hands on her lap. Draco couldn't say why, but there was something grand, almost stunning about her right then. It was as if she was determined not to be defeated, as if she had become emotionally powerful despite the recent events.

Draco quietly closed the door behind him, then went over to sit down beside her. She looked up, her fiery eyes cursing him, then edged slightly away. Draco sighed.

They sat in silence for several minutes. For once in his life, Draco didn't know what to say. He noticed the way Hermione had her hands over her stomach, the way a sort of softness came over her every now and again.

'You're pregnant,' Draco finally said, sighing.

Hermione looked up, met his gaze and coldly nodded.

'Why didn't you tell me?' said Draco in a rush; he had been burning to ask her this question.

Hermione gave a dry laugh.

'What was I to say?' she said sarcastically. 'And why should I have said it? I owe nothing to you. You are nothing to me.'

Draco felt his insides whirl about with anger, but he ignored it. His hand inched its way to hers, but she drew it away immediately.

'Stop it,' she spat. 'Stop trying to convince me that - that we're meant to be together or something. I'm devoted to Ron.'

Draco was just about to yell that Ron was dead and gone forever, but he remembered what Twine had said. Instead, he ignored the comment and smoothed out the sheets.

'Are you still in pain?' he asked coolly, trying to fight the desire to touch her hair.

Hermione looked up again, eyebrows raised, trying to discover the malicious intent behind this sentence. When she found none, she shook her head.

'Are you hungry?' asked Draco. She said nothing. 'You must be. I'll send some food up.'

He stood up, but Hermione said, 'Wait.' Turning around, Draco smiled, thinking that she was about to thank him.

'I will never forgive you, Malfoy,' she whispered coldly, 'I'll never forgive you for taking me here.'

Draco scowled, his heart beating wildly. He slammed the door behind him.

Hermione sat in silence once Draco had left. Her hands stroke her stomach, almost as if she imagined her baby in her arms already. She heaved a sigh of relief; not only was Draco gone, but her baby had survived the crisis she had just been through. She vowed not to strain herself anymore. She was going to have this baby and it was going to grow up to be just like Ron. Who cared for Draco or anyone else, as long as her and Ron's baby was alive and well?

Still, she couldn't help feeling a little despair. She thought about her life before the Malfoy Manor; it seemed ages away, even though it had barely been days. She thought about the little cottage she and Ron had rented, how excited they had been when they found it. It was in the country, not far away from the Burrow, and she and Ron would wake up early in the morning to take long walks. They had picked all sorts of flowers and pinned them up all over the house.

The weekdays had been exciting. Ron and Hermione both shared the same ambition: to become well accomplished Aurors one day. They had succesfully been accepted at Auror training, together with Harry, and every day was filled with excitement and knowledge. Hermione had found herself in a time happier than any other, even happier than her years at Hogwarts, as she now had Ron by her side.

Their feelings had come gradually. They barely noticed them at first - they had been so preoccupied by Harry and the prophecy. But at one point, the feelings grew stronger than possible, so it was impossible to deny them. Hermione had never thought that Ron could possibly feel the same way, and she could still remember how much she had blushed the day Ron had asked her out in her seventh year.

Hermione wiped the tears off her cheeks. All that had happened just a few months ago. She was 24 now. She had been engaged to Ron.

She hadn't wanted to get married at first; she had always thought marriage was oldfashioned and expensive. But Ron managed to convince her into thinking it as romantic, and she accepted. They saved every penny up for a beautiful wedding. The marriage would have been in two months if it had not been for the Final Battle.

Hermione cursed the man who had killed Ron. She would kill him one day, she promised herself. She would find out who had killed her beloved and then assure him the same fate.

Hermione laid back down on her pillows and whispered softly to her baby:

'I'll protect you. Don't worry.' 


End file.
